A Very Winchester Christmas
by Fanpire101
Summary: It's Jack's first Christmas, and he wants to celebrate with the most stereotypical, picture perfect, so-sweet-it-could-give-you-cavities Christmas. Luckily, he has a trio of father-figures who are willing to make it happen for him. But when things go the usual Winchester way, it's up to Team Free Will 2.0 to come together and show the true meaning of the holidays.


**A/N:** Welcome everyone, to my second attempt at a _Supernatural_ Christmas fic. If you'd like to read my first attempt, it's called _Christmas is Coming Around Again_. I'm imagining that this one is set some time in season 14, before Michael busts out of Dean's head, but it could kinda fit anywhere in the show where these characters are all alive at the same time.

This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Bjester74, who inspired the fic. Thanks for all of your support this year, girl! Apparently, all it takes for me to write a 13 page fic is Bjester telling me "Hey, yeah, you should try writing about X". Challenge accepted, my friend.

This fic is also dedicated to my cousin, who is also a huge SPN fan. Our convention experience this year was amazing! Thanks for being weird with me!

Lastly, this fic is dedicated to all those who are reading it. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, a prosperous New Year, and a life filled with love and hope.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing recognizable belongs to me.

* * *

**A Very Winchester Christmas**

It was ridiculous really, how they had ended up here. The Bunker's smelled faintly of smoke, the cheap plastic angel that had resided on top of the tree was in three or four pieces, scattered on the floor, the tree it had resided on standing crookedly in the corner of the War Room. And that stupid Swedish table was a leg short and wobbly as all Hell.

And all because their stupidly charming and endearing Nephilim kid had wanted to spend his first Christmas as a family. But Dean couldn't deny it. The kid was sitting at their cheap table, smiling with a mouth full of pizza, laughing and joking with everyone around him. It was probably one of the better Christmases the Winchesters had ever had.

* * *

Dean groaned as he dragged the Ikea box through the Bunker hallways. Jack wanted his first Christmas to be special. Chuck only knew who had shown the kid those goofy Hallmark movies, with the picture-perfect families discovering the true meaning of Christmas in two hours or less. Or maybe Cas had shown him _It's a Wonderful Life_. Point being, Jack's latest obsession was having the most tooth-achingly sweet Christmas celebration with his family and, once he had turned those big doe eyes on Dean, he had been powerless to put his foot down and say, "Not in my house."

If he could say anything about Jack, it was that the kid somehow inherited things from all three of his father figures. His stubbornness was definitely Winchester, but his baffling innocence was pure Castiel. He could eat and drink like Dean, but those puppy dog eyes were all Sam. Dean cursed the day he taught Sam how to use those things. Just like he was cursing the ridiculously large box that he was currently dragging down the cement hallways.

Finally, _finally_, he reached the War Room, where Sam had just finished putting up the mammoth sized (thankfully) fake Christmas tree.

"Hey, you get it?" Sam asked as he plugged in the pre-lit tree. Hundreds of fairy lights shone out from the tree, bathing them in the glow.

"No, Sam," Dean rolled his eyes as he gave the box another hip-check, so it slid further into the room. "I didn't get it. This massive box that weighs like a thousand pounds is only here for decoration."

Sam ignored him, contenting himself with twisting the tree a few inches to the right and fluffing the branches to fill any holes. "You made sure to get the _Nordviken_ this time, right? Because the _Möckelby_ isn't going to fit everyone."

"Dude, I don't care if I brought freaking Thor and his whole band of Merry Men home. That's the last time I'm going to that freaking Swedish death trap, alright? Freakin' meatballs weren't even worth it."

Sam rolled his eyes as he good-naturedly clapped his brother on the back as he went by. "Whatever you say, man. I'm taking Jack out to go get ornaments. Try not to turn the air blue in here trying to put that thing together."

"Sam, I can take the Impala's engine apart and put it back together again in my sleep. I built houses for a solid year. This'll be a piece of cake. You're the idiot who got roped into taking the kid out ornament hunting at Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve." Dean grinned up at his brother's retreating back. "Good luck! And don't scratch my car!" Sam gave Dean a one-fingered salute as he continued his walk to Jack's room. "Oh, yeah. Very Christmassy, Sam!" Dean chuckled as he heard Jack's excited chatter float down the hallway. "Poor Sammy. Good luck, kiddos. You're gonna need it."

* * *

Dean swore again. Really? He could put the Impala back together blindfolded and three sheets to the wind. He used to build houses with actual wood, nails, and hammers. He could hunt a Chupacabra on a busted leg. He'd done tours of Hell, Heaven, Purgatory, and what he had not-so-affectionately nicknamed Murder World. He was _not_ about to be bested by fake Swedish wood and a Chuck damned piece of bent metal.

He was so tempted to fire the Allen key out into the middle of the snowy Kansas landscape outside their front door but thought better. First, Sam would never let him live it down. Next, the kid wanted a fancy ass Christmas dinner at an actual dining room table, not their War Room table or the military style seating in the kitchen. And last, Dean wasn't about to let the frigging _Nordviken_ win. He was a Winchester. Not a Lose-chester.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean yelled as the table fell apart for the third time.

"How's it going in here?" Sam asked through a barely contained laugh, peeking his head around the corner.

"Great…" Dean huffed, smiling almost too brightly back at Sam. "Peachy keen. How did shopping go?"

"Oh, you know Jack. One look at him and everyone fell in love. Moved out of our way, helped us find what we were looking for, gave us the employee discount." Sam laughed, shaking his head. "He thinks it's the Christmas spirit moving everybody to be their best. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it's the puppy dog eyes, the dimples and probably some Nephilim magic working instead."

Dean shook his head. He knew he should've thrown rock when it came down to deciding who would take Jack out and who would go get the stupid table. Scissors had always been his downfall.

"Hey, man. Why don't you take a break? Christmas dinner still needs to be sorted out, and Jack's itching to decorate the tree. I'll grab Cas and we can wrestle with the table."

Dean shot Sam a grateful look, taking his proffered hand to help lever him off the floor.

"Knock yourself out, Sammy. Just, uh…make sure you take a video of Cas trying to figure this thing out. It'll be like a baby in a trench coat all over again."

"Yeah, yeah. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Some veggies with dinner, please. Just…something green. Anything."

Dean laughed as he sauntered into the kitchen, listening to Sam call after him.

* * *

"…I just don't understand. I watched the very first creature walk on land for the first time. I watched as humans discovered that they too could drink cows' milk and eat honey. I am over a hundred thousand years old. How could one piece of furniture be so confusing?" Castiel complained to Sam as the bigger man gently guided him away from the almost-finished table.

"I know, Cas. It's not your fault. Why don't you go see if Dean and Jack need any help decorating the tree?"

"Sam, I speak Enochian. I can speak languages that no longer exist. Something…something is _wrong_ with those instructions."

Sam choked back his chuckle. "Yeah, Cas. I believe you. But no building is required with the tree. It's already put together. All you have to do is decorate. Okay?"

Castiel nodded as he wandered down the hallway towards the War Room. Sam had decided to move the table pieces into the dungeon when he had taken over for Dean, knowing that the mere sight of it might make Dean blow his top. The doors and hallway were wide enough for he and Dean to carry the table out into the War Room when it was ready, and besides, the table was a surprise for Jack. He didn't know that there were more people coming to their Christmas dinner, and Sam and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

"…and there you go! What do you think, kid? Not bad for your first Christmas tree."

Castiel entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks.

There was no doubt that the tree was beautiful. He could remember a time when Christmas trees were decorated with candles and was thankful when interior lighting had been created (dry trees and candles were definitely not a good mix). The fairy lights lit the room in a soft white glow, and the decorations were beautiful. Jack had obviously gone for more of a traditional take on decorating, with glittery orbs of silver and gold and red hanging from every branch, however there were a few decorations that showed off the more…unique nature of their little family. An ornament shaped like a tie was a little obvious, but Castiel could appreciate the sentiment, while he could only guess that Jack had chosen the glittery Diet Coke can to represent himself. A miniature black car hung from a high branch, and what Castiel believed to be half an avocado was located about midway up the tree. He was just…a little…concerned about the tree topper.

"Dean?"

Dean and Jack turned towards him in unison. Jack's eyes glistened with the reflection of the lights, and Dean had a smile on his face that was rarely seen these days.

"Look, Castiel! It's our Christmas tree!"

Castiel smiled tersely. "It's wonderful, Jack. Could, um, could I speak to Dean alone for a moment, please?"

Jack looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before Dean took over, clapping Jack on the shoulder and giving him a little shove towards the kitchen. "Why don't you go slice that day-old bread and put it in the oven, kid? Can't make stuffing without it."

Jack nodded eagerly at his task. "Sure thing, Dean."

Dean smiled fondly after him as he rushed to the kitchen, then turned his attention to Castiel.

"What's up? Odin's mighty table get the best of you too?"

"What?"

"Never mind. What's going on, Cas?"

"The tree…it is beautiful, Dean…just…why is one of my siblings featured at the apex?"

Dean looked up at the plastic angel Sam and Jack had picked up from Wal-Mart. Honestly, he hadn't even given it a second thought. Sure, angels were mostly dicks with wings, but it was tradition. Mary had always placed an angel at the top of their tree when he was young, so why wouldn't Jack?

Dean shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, man. It's tradition?" Upon closer look, Dean laughed. "I mean, I didn't notice at first, but I guess it does kinda look like Gabriel in a way, with the long hair. Can't imagine him in a frilly dress like that though."

"But…how is it attached? How does the…tree topper…stay on top?"

Dean busied himself with putting the ornament boxes away in the giant plastic bin Sam had bought.

"You just kinda jam the top of the tree under the skirt and pray the damn thing stays up there." Dean peeked under his arm to look back at Castiel, who had a frankly alarmed look on his face. Dean laughed out loud. "Sorry, Cas. But I have always told you that you walk around with a stick up your ass."

Dean punched Castiel in the shoulder as he went by, headed into the kitchen after Jack.

Cas sputtered in the empty room for a moment, nearly glaring at the preposterous, non-canonical depiction of his brethren. Humans did have some strange customs, to be sure. But having an artist's interpretation of an 'angel', in a poofy dress, perched rather uncomfortably on top of their dead indoor foliage might just be the strangest.

* * *

Dean sighed tiredly as he and Sam left Jack's room. The kid was definitely taking more after Sam than he was taking after Dean and Cas. Sam had always been a stickler for tradition, whereas Dean was always the one to try to make those traditions happen for him. Cas…well, who knew what he thought of their holiday traditions?

But Jack…Dean had to give him credit for following the Christmas playbook to the letter.

After his struggle with the Swedish table, decorating the tree, and helping Jack slice, dice, and toast the day-old bread for his famous turkey stuffing, Dean had spent the rest of his afternoon making gingerbread cookies with the kid.

It had caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. It was something he had the faintest memory of doing with Mary before she died. It was something he had always wanted to do with Sam as a kid, but hadn't been able to do due to their circumstances. It was something he had done the once with Ben, but now that particular kid was long gone and far away from him. Now, it was something he could do with Jack, even though he couldn't get the frankly ridiculous image of an almost-40 year old veteran hunter _baking cookies_ with the 2-year-old-trapped-in-a-21-year-old-body son of Lucifer out of his head. But he had done it. He had shown Jack how to measure the ingredients exactly, how to chill the dough, how to roll it out and press the cookie cutters (_Dean Winchester had freaking cookie cutters. If word got out, nobody would believe it_) just so in order to get the perfect shape. He had coached the kid through checking the cookies to make sure they were baked just right, how to cool them off, then, finally, how to decorate them.

Then, Jack had somehow convinced him to put a plate of cookies out for _Santa_.

"I know Santa is a legend that stems from a variety of religions and cultures that was then coopted by major marketing companies in order to sell the idea of a perfect Christmas," he had explained. "But I had hoped that this Christmas would provide me with the opportunity to…play pretend, I guess. Is that okay?"

Hell, Jack could have asked Dean anything at that moment and he would've done it. He would've pulled a damn George Bailey and lassoed the moon for the kid. So yes, Dean helped Jack arrange a few of the gingerbread stars and reindeer on a green plate and placed it, along with a glass of milk, on the meeting table in the War Room. If anything, he would have a nice midnight snack waiting for him when he finished putting out the Christmas presents that were currently stored under a few tarps in the garage.

Finally, he and Sam had forest marched Jack into bed and Sammy, bless his heart, had been roped into reading Jack _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_.

"One more day, Dean," Sam sighed next to him as they made their way into the War Room, which was now twinkling from the lights of the tree, the garlands that were wrapped around the pillars, and the candles that were laid out on the table. "One more day."

Dean chuckled. "Never took you for one to wish the holidays away, man. You used to love this stuff."

Sam nodded in concession. "Yeah. I'm not gonna lie, I still love it. But Jack…wow, he was so much energy."

Dean collapsed into one of the chairs at the table. "That he does, Samuel. That he does."

"It's Sam," Sam admonished, his tone betrayed by the slight grin on his face. "Man, I can barely keep up with Jack! How did you used to do this?"

"Keep up with you, you mean?" At Sam's nod, Dean sat back in his seat and smiled. "I had a lot more energy back then, kiddo. And a few less trips to other planes of existence under my belt as well. You'd think that between the three of us we'd be able to corral the kid, but –" Dean made a sound like a motor and slid his hands past each other.

Sam nodded in commiseration as they sat in silence for a moment. "Is everything ready for tomorrow?"

Dean nodded sleepily. "Yep. Got responses from everyone. They'll all be here around noon. Turkey is thawing out in the sink. Bread's ready for stuffing. All the veggies and potatoes and carbs are ready to be cooked. Presents and all that crap are ready to go for the morning."

"You got the pies?"

Dean shot him a look. "Hey, I'm not you, buddy. I don't forget the pies. I got blueberry, apple caramel, pumpkin, and pecan. I also got one of those chocolate cakes with the cream inside and the Santa sleigh on top. I don't know what they're called but they're damn good. You got the table ready?"

"Yeah, it wasn't that difficult, actually."

"Haha, shut up."

Sam smiled at his brother good-naturedly.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Cas?"

Dean looked around, as though the angel in question was just going to pop out of thin air (_though, to be fair, that had happened like…a lot of times_). "I don't know. I haven't seen him since this afternoon. Have you?" Sam shook his head and Dean shrugged it off. "He'll show up somewhere. He always does. Now, what do you say we Clark W. Griswold this bitch before we get some shut eye?"

Sam shook his head fondly. "Sure, Dean. Let's do it."

* * *

Getting some shut eye happened later than either of them expected. First, they had brought out all the presents that were either bought by them or sent to them from friends around the globe and laid them out underneath the tree. Then, Dean had trekked outside of the Bunker to grab some of their chopped wood so they could light a nice Christmas morning fire (_after Dean had blown out the side wall with the grenade launcher to save them from the British Men of Letters, they had decided to turn that gaping hole into a fireplace. The exit was in a secluded enough area that they didn't have to worry about someone seeing it accidentally, and they had good enough defenses to keep any human unwanted visitors out_). While Dean did that, Sam had pulled out the bacon to thaw for their Christmas breakfast and chopped some fruit for a fruit salad.

Finally, they had ventured into the dungeon to grab the _Nordviken_ and set it up so that they had one less thing to do in the morning. Dean had just about laughed his ass off when one of the legs fell off in the hallway, but at that point it was 4 o'clock in the morning and neither of them were as young as they used to be, so they resolved to just fix the table when they woke up in the morning.

Dean had collapsed into his memory foam with a sigh and hoped that whatever teenage hormones were still racing through Jack's body would counter the child-like excitement he had for his first Christmas and convince the kid to sleep in a little.

Not nearly long enough later, Dean was forced to jump out of his bed and race to the kitchen to answer the call of the fire alarm blaring out and the smoke that was drifting through the stone hallways of their home.

He burst through the kitchen door, grabbed the first living thing he found in there, tossed them out into the War Room, and hauled ass back into the kitchen to grab the fire extinguisher and put out the flames that were pouring out of the toaster, the stovetop and the oven.

Once he was satisfied that the flames were done and dusted, Dean inspected the scene. Blackened crumbs were all that was left of the piece of bread that had been in the toaster. A skillet of what looked like bacon was covered in the white residue of the extinguisher on the stovetop, and, when he peeked inside, a tray of hashbrowns were inedible inside the oven.

What the hell had happened? Dean spent a few moments fiddling with the appliances, figuring out what had happened, before he remembered that he had pulled someone out of the smoke.

Marching back into the War Room, Dean found Sam with his hand on Jack's shoulder, seemingly in the middle of a serious conversation. Jack's face was ashen and his eyes were reddened, giving Dean the evidence he needed to piece together who his latest rescue had been.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked at the same time that Jack began to speak.

"Dean, I'm so sorry! I just thought that you were doing so many nice things for me because it's Christmas that I would make breakfast for everyone, and I swear I followed your instructions _exactly_! I don't know what happened, all of a sudden everything just burst into flames and I was trying to put it out, but I couldn't, and the flames started getting bigger, then the alarm went off and—"

Dean held up his hand to cut him off. "It's okay, kid. It's not your fault."

"Dean, he could've seriously hurt himself. Or any of us. Jack, I've told you before—"

"We blew a fuse, Sam," Dean spoke over him. "I dunno, man, maybe it's because this place is shining like the top of the Chrysler building right now, but I think the generator got overheated, so the fuses blew. But because this place has wiring from like the Dark Ages, instead of just throwing us into darkness, the appliances caught fire and everything went up in flames. Coulda happened to anyone. Ain't the kid's fault, man."

Jack smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks, Dean. But I'm still sorry."

"No, Jack," Sam countered, now with a smile on his face. "I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have blamed you. I was just worried."

"The only thing I'm worried about is how the hell we're gonna cook all this food with the oven and the toaster out of commission," Dean chimed in.

"Oh…" Jack looked crestfallen again. "It's okay, Dean. We don't have to have a big turkey dinner. What's important is that no one got hurt. I'm…I'm going to get changed. My clothing doesn't smell so good right now."

Sam and Dean waited until Jack had trudged down the hallway and out of earshot before turning to each other.

"Well, now what do we do?"

"I don't know, man, but I ain't having Emo the Elf hangin' around on Christmas. You go try to fix that Chuck damn table, I'll call in the reinforcements."

Sam nodded once before turning his back on Dean and striding over to the table, taking him past the Christmas tree. Dean watched him go before his gaze was caught by something that was just…not right.

"Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah, De'?"

"What the hell happened to the tree?"

Sam took a few steps back and tilted his head. The once straight tree now stood crookedly in its stand, and the serene looking plastic angel wrapped in a red velvet gown was suspiciously missing.

"I have no clue, Dean. No clue."

* * *

"Jack! Jack, c'mere man!"

Jack sat in his bedroom, ignoring the calls of the men who were both his best friends, closest allies, and father figures. He knew in his heart that he could not have prevented his Christmas breakfast catastrophe, but he was still feeling melancholic over the fact that there would be no special Christmas feast awaiting them at the end of the day. Not only would he not get the perfect ending to his perfect first Christmas, but Dean was an amazing cook and Jack had been looking forward to both learning from him how to cook the feast and getting to reap the rewards of the meal that they cooked together.

Therefore, he had been avoiding his family for the last few hours. First, he had taken the slowest shower in the history of mankind. Then, he had wasted almost 45 minutes throwing the clothing he had been wearing into the wash. Then, almost another 45 minutes disappeared before Jack had been able to pick out new clothing to wear. The festive green sweater he had chosen to wear that morning was now folded on top of his dresser, freshly washed and dried and no longer smelling of smoke and failure. Instead, he was wearing a red T-shirt and black jeans. Slightly festive, hopefully enough to keep his family from asking about his saddened mood, but nothing like he had planned.

"Jack!" Jack jumped as Dean shouted from right outside his door. "Jack Kline, get your ass out here and stop feeling sorry for yourself! It's Christmas, damnit!"

Jack sighed as he unfolded himself from his bed and meandered over to the door. He opened it and forced a smile onto his face.

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean laughed, a full-on belly laugh. "Stop pretending, kid. You ain't fooling anyone. Now move your ass. You got visitors."

"Visitors? But who…" Dean wouldn't answer, instead leading him down the hallway to the War Room.

When Jack stepped into the room, he was overwhelmed. So many of his friends and family stood around, dressed as festively as hunters dressed.

Mary stood next to Sam, Bobby behind them, all looking equally ridiculous in what Jack knew were called 'Ugly Christmas Sweaters'. Maggie stood close by with a reindeer antler headband on her head, Rowena next to her with a Santa hat perched jauntily on her red curls. Jody sat on the stairs wearing a red and green flannel shirt. Donna stood beside her wearing a bright red shirt decorated with a cartoon skating yellow bird, glittery letters that spelled out HOLIDAY CHICK, and green snowflake patterned grey sleeves. Patience, Alex, and Claire sat squished together on the stairs behind Jody, each wearing shirts that were similar to Donna's, except they had a cartoon bald boy, a cartoon dancing Beagle, and a very crooked cartoon tree on them.

Dean clapped Jack on the arm as he went by to join the small crowd. "Merry Christmas, kid."

A chorus of Merry Christmases rang out from the crowd as Jack moved to join them.

"Wow…" he whispered, staring at the different faces in turn. "What are you all doing here?"

"Dean sent out the call to arms," Donna replied cheerfully, raising a cup of eggnog at him. "Said something about coming together to make your first Christmas with us special!"

"I believe his exact words were 'Get your asses here so we can be the jolliest bunch of assholes since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny Freaking Kay'," Bobby groaned.

"We were always going to come, sweetheart," Jody answered, standing and embracing him in a maternal hug. "But Dean sent out a 911 text this morning after the incident in the kitchen."

Jack whipped around to look at Dean, who was looking bashfully down as he rolled up the sleeves on his green Henley. He looked up to see everyone staring at him and snapped, "Yeah, well, I wasn't about to let the kid go hungry on Christmas, alright? So, dig out the food you brought, and let's get this show on the road."

"What my brother means is thanks for coming everyone," Sam countered, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. "We really appreciate it."

"Don't think anything of it, dear. Just show me where I can set up my things so we can get a traditional Scottish breakfast started, yes?" Sam nodded as he guided Rowena out of the room.

"I brought the backup generator from the station," Jody called, moving up the stairs to fetch it.

"I'll help you bring it in," Claire added as she moved to follow.

"Umm, we were driving in from school, so we couldn't bring any food," Patience said shyly as she and Alex approached Dean. "But we picked up a couple of pizzas? I know it's not traditional Christmas food but…"

"It's perfect," Dean smiled at them.

* * *

Soon, the Bunker was bustling with the sounds of cooking and laughter.

Rowena, with a little help from Maggie, had magicked together a delicious Scottish breakfast of sausages, bacon, and pancakes. Sam brought out the fruit salad that he had prepared the night before to complete the meal. Rowena assured everyone that the foods were real, not created by spell and illusion. She had just worked a copying spell on it so that all the food would replenish itself, ensuring that there was more than enough for everyone.

Bobby, Dean and Mary were taking turns switching off with the turkey. Bobby had brought a massive deep fryer, and Mary had pitched in enough oil to cover the 22 lbs bird Dean had bought for the occasion, so now all they had to do was rotate out of the cold in 20 minute shifts until the bird was ready to eat.

Donna and Jody had jerry-rigged the generator to the Bunker's outdated power source and were hard at work cooking the veggies, potatoes, yams, and anything else that could be boiled or fried on the stovetop (_the oven, unfortunately, was down for the count thanks to smoke damage, but Dean wasn't too upset. He had been eyeballing a top of the line range at the local store, and was itching to give himself a nice Christmas present_).

Claire had had the sense of mind to grab the toaster from home before she, Jody, and Donna had driven in, so she had designated herself Toaster Master, and was reheating the individual pizza slices that her adopted sisters had brought whenever someone mentioned that they were hungry.

Jack stared around at his friends…his _family_. He couldn't believe that they were all gathered to celebrate together. It was better than anything he could have imagined. Well, almost better…

"Dean," Jack called, getting the hunter's attention as he entered from outside, passing his beige jacket to Mary, who was on her way out. "Where's Cas?"

Dean sighed as he trotted down the stairs to stand beside him. "Honestly, kid, I have no clue. I've been calling him all day, but I haven't seen him since we showed him the tree yesterday afternoon."

Jack spared a quick glance at the tree when Dean mentioned it, with full intention to return his attention to the conversation at hand but was surprised by what he saw.

"Dean, what happened to the angel? And why is it crooked? We made sure it was standing straight!"

"What's wrong with a crooked tree, Jack?" Alex asked with a cheeky grin on her face, gesturing down to her black T-shirt. It featured a very crooked and sad looking Christmas tree and the words "All it needed was a little love" written in scrawling glittery white font. Jack didn't get the joke but smiled at her anyway as she moved away.

"That's another thing," Sam commented as he took Alex's place beside them. "That angel was up there all afternoon, but when we were prepping for today late last night, we noticed it was missing."

"You don't think…" Jack started to say when the door clanged open and Castiel entered, brushing snowflakes from his trench coat.

"Sorry, I'm late everyone," Cas said in lieu of a greeting, though he smiled warmly at Claire as she passed by him.

"Where the hell have you been, man?" Sam asked.

"Did you take our angel?" Jack added on quickly.

Castiel looked down at the floor guiltily. "I did, Jack, and I apologize for that. I wanted to see if I could make it look more…accurate, so that you could see what your ancestors actually looked like."

"And the tree?" Dean asked, trying to hide his laughter. Of course, that's what Cas would steal their tree topper.

"I could not levitate the angel down to me correctly, so I had to fly up and get it. I accidentally collided with the tree on my way down, but I did my best to fix it. Again, I'm sorry."

"Did you make the angel look more…accurate?" Sam asked, barely disguising a chuckle behind a cough.

"No, I, uh…failed at that as well. Jack, I'm sorry that I ruined a significant portion of your Christmas festivities." Castiel handed Jack the plastic angel.

Jack stared down at it. In a way, Castiel was right. It didn't look like his biological father, or his uncle, or Castiel.

Claire approached from the side, staring down at the angel with a wicked look in her eye. She reached up on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear, prompting Jack to drop the angel as he raced away, breaking it into large pieces that scattered across the floor.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel watched as the two young hunters headed back towards the bedrooms.

"Should we be worried?" Castiel asked with a frown on his face.

"Oh yeah."

"Definitely."

"Then why—"

"Dean, the turkey is ready to come out, but we need your help!" Mary shouted from the door.

"Samuel, be a dear and fetch me some rosemary from the kitchen?" Rowena trilled from down the hall.

"Castiel, get your feathered behind in here and lend me a hand, would'ja?" Donna called, peeking her head in from the kitchen.

The three men looked at each other, shrugged, and headed off to complete their tasks, none of them bothering to stop and pick up the broken angel.

* * *

Dean sat at the head of their wobbly Swedish table, Sam and Jack sitting on either side of him. Rowena, who had offered to fix the table with a wave of her hand but who had been denied thanks to Winchester pride, sat beside Maggie, who was on Jack's other side. Bobby sat very uncomfortably beside the witch. Mary, sat at the other head of the table, was framed by Donna and Jody, while Jody's three wayward daughters were squished in on the other side of the table, with Claire ending up next to Castiel. Despite the size of the table, it was still cramped, but they made it work.

Dean had carved up the fried turkey, then everyone had dug in. Potatoes were passed, gravy was poured, and everyone raved about Dean's homemade stuffing. Reheated pizza slices were on every plate, and though they weren't traditional Christmas fare, they balanced the meal out nicely.

Dean paused his eating to watch his family enjoy themselves. Jack looked happier than he had been in months. The worry lines on Sam's face were gone completely, and Dean could see the family resemblance between Claire and Cas as they laughed at some joke.

Dean caught Jody's eye as she nodded respectfully at him. She knew what this meant to him, and he knew what it meant to her.

Dean winked happily back at her and went to dig back into his food before his eyes caught their new tree topper.

When Claire and Jack had returned from their abrupt exit, Dean had laughed so hard Sam had had to catch him before he fell over. Part of a cardboard tube had been wrapped in white paper before it was wrapped in burlap that had been cut and folded just right. Just above the paper and burlap, two blue beads from god knows where had been glued to the front, and a black piece of string formed a frown, not a smile, beneath them. Tufts of brown hair pulled off a hairbrush had been taped over the top opening. Claire had snuck back in to grab the gold wings that had snapped off their plastic angel, and they had been glued onto the back of their cardboard masterpiece. The piece de resistance was a piece of navy-blue fabric, cut in the shape of a tie, that had been taped to the white paper/neck area of their angel.

It wasn't the prettiest angel, but it was by far the most 'correct' angel to top any tree. Even Castiel couldn't argue that, even though he claimed that he couldn't see the resemblance.

Dean chuckled to himself as he dug back into his food with only one thought on his mind.

"_Chuck bless us, everyone."_

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope you all enjoyed reading! A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!


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